


A Funny Thing

by Morimaitar



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: (kinda), Alpha Jason Todd, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Capes, But so is Jason Todd so it's OK, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Omega Dick Grayson, POV Alternating, Swearing, Teacher-Student Relationship, dick grayson is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28416633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morimaitar/pseuds/Morimaitar
Summary: As a teacher at the Alpha Enrichment Center, Dick is used to unruly alphas in his classroom.But god damn, is Jason Todd testing him.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 46
Kudos: 297
Collections: Detective Holiday Exchange





	A Funny Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whippy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whippy/gifts).



> I saw this idea in the JayDick Server and just couldn't help myself. The premise was just too much fun. 
> 
> (Thank you to my wonderful beta, whom I love dearly)

Dick hated the red names. 

It was not that he was unused to crude behavior. Most of his students at the Alpha Enrichment Center were less than genteel—in fact, that was the very point of the enterprise. Like a machine. Scoundrels go in; gentlemen come out. 

Red names were belligerent, yes, but it was not the belligerence he hated. Nor did he take issue with their resentment at being in the Center, as many a student came unwillingly by command of some higher power. Those brought to him by court order, as red names often were, hardly differed from those newly-presented pups dragged in by tired omega parents. 

No, it was none of these things that caused him distress. The truth was simply this: Dick hated the red names because the red names hated him. 

It was a Sunday evening when he received the class list for the upcoming academic session. Dick had been teaching long enough at the Center—three years, come the spring—that those in charge knew he needed little time to prepare. Every so often the curriculum director sent him a message, asking not-so-subtly if he needed any assistance, what with Dick being an omega and all that implies. But each time he declined, and asked that she send him the upcoming class list in PDF format.

In the comfort of his kitchen, Dick poured himself a glass of rosé and opened the Word document from the curriculum director. At once he saw that there was a single red name amongst the twelve listed. _More wine,_ he thought, topping off the glass. He then took several hefty sips before scrolling through the student information until he found the desired name.

> **Name:** JASON PETER TODD  
>  **Age:** 23  
>  **Status:** Alpha  
>  **Occupation:** Unemployed  
>  **Referral:** Judge Christine Mortensen, 2/19 

_Wonderful,_ Dick thought, staring at his laptop screen. As always, the document did not include the infraction that led to the court mandate, but then again such information would likely have been redundant. The red names, he knew, held a record of violence toward omegas. It took little imagination to place the pieces together. 

So it would be _that_ kind of month.

He closed the laptop and sighed deeply, testing the alpha’s name on his tongue. _Jason Todd._ It rolled pleasantly through his mouth, starting far back with the _j_ and surging forward until his tongue clicked against his teeth with the final syllable. _Jason Todd. Jason Todd._

Dick threw his head back and gulped down the rest of his wine. Then, he poured himself another glass, paired it with microwaved chicken tikka masala, completed a thirty-minute yoga routine, and finished off the night with a dose of his daily suppressants. And in bed he held on to his youngest brother’s sweatshirt and breathed deeply, pretending the pup was there with him, nestled in his arms. 

Monday morning, he stood in his classroom and waited for _Jason Todd_ to walk through the door. Red names always made themselves obvious. Most normal students looked at him and groaned; a few muttered something about _learning manners from a fucking omega._ But the red names, the red names devolved into feral things. Seething, growling, spitting all sorts of slurs. Their scents became ripe with a frightening aggression that nearly knocked Dick to his knees every time. Weak omega instincts. It had taken him years to take control of them, to shove them aside and pretend, when convenient, that they did not exist. 

He checked his scent blocker, then sent a quick message to security, as a precaution. It wasn’t that he needed them to protect himself, but it was always best not get in fist-fights in front of his students, no matter how much he _ached_ to at times. 

“Is this the behavior class?” someone asked. 

Dick looked over to see a woman, omega by the scent of her, holding what must be her son by the arm. The boy took one look at Dick and groaned, giving them both an eye roll for the ages. His smell was rich with defiance, but there were also the subtle hints of sourgrass and persimmon—the tell-tale scent of curiosity. 

“Yes, that’s correct,” Dick said, smiling at the boy. “You can take a seat anywhere you’d like.” 

The boy’s name was Carter, Dick soon discovered. The next few students were older, college-aged alphas caught partying in the omega dorm rooms. Then the next, younger again, and the next, older still. None of them flew into a rage at his presence, and none of them answered to the name of _Jason Todd_. 

By nine o’clock, there were eleven students in his classroom. Dick glanced at the door, then at his roster, where the red name, unchecked, looked back at him. Part of him felt relief, yet another part of him hated that there was relief to be felt. 

“Well,” he said, and turned to the class. “Let’s get started.”

The spiel came easy to him now. Hello and welcome to the Alpha Enrichment Class. My name is Dick Grayson, and so on. We’re all friends here, and so on. I’m sure we’ll have a very productive month together, and so on. Here are your class materials. You’ll see the curriculum includes lessons in civil obedience, social history, sexual education, and so on. You are expected to bring these to class, and so on. Are there any questions? 

And then: Yes, I am in fact an omega. You will raise your hand in my classroom, thank you. No, you may not leave. Yes, I can call security at any time. 

When the questions died down, Dick surveyed the room for a moment, glanced once more at the empty doorway, then pushed the door closed. After he heard the tell-tale click, he picked up a whiteboard marker and turned to the board. 

“Lesson number one,” he said. “Omegas and the Importance of Respect.” 

From the back of the classroom: a snort. 

“Freaking SJW school,” muttered someone else. 

Dick ignored the comments. He knew from experience they were looking to get a rise out of him, and that even the harshest attitudes could be killed by kindness. 

(Most of them, at least. The red names were often the exceptions.)

It was a quarter past ten when the door burst open. Dick looked up from the _Alpha Student Handbook_ to see a man standing before him. 

He was tall. That’s the first thing Dick noticed, the only thing Dick could notice when the alpha’s face was hidden by the red hood of his sweatshirt. Six feet, more or less. His physique was broad and muscular, carrying with it an intangible power. As he came closer, Dick smelled paper and honey, with faint undertones of something deep and masculine. Pine, perhaps. Mountain air. 

_Intense_ was the first word that came to Dick’s mind. The second: _violent._

“This the class?” the alpha grunted. 

Dick thought about the security button beneath his desk. With an athletic build of his own, not to mention his use of heat suppressants and scent blockers, Dick’s status as an omega was not obvious to most strangers. The majority assumed he was simply a particularly beautiful beta, though a handful thought him to be a rather petite alpha. He certainly had the temper for the latter. 

Judging by the way the newest alpha approached him, Dick was currently passing for a beta. 

“This is the class,” Dick said, and pretended to look at his class roster. “Jason Todd. You’re late.”

The alpha shuffled uncomfortably. “Yeah, whatever. Missed the bus.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, the alpha—Jason— gave no indication that he had heard. His gaze was fixed on the rows of desks in front of them, where the other students stared back. “The fuck are you looking at?” he growled. 

“Sit down, Mr. Todd,” Dick ordered.

The alpha all but threw himself into a chair, crossed his arms, and stared at him from beneath the shadow of his hood. Dick held his gaze for half a second, firmly, but without animosity. 

“Hood off, please.” 

With the flick of a wrist, the hood came off, and sea-green eyes glared up at him. Even bruised and unshaven, the alpha was strikingly handsome. Strong jaw, sharp cheekbones—he was all angles, really, save for the soft curve of his lips. 

Dick thought it unfair that such a man could be so handsome. 

“These are your class materials,” he said, gathering the documents and handbook from his desk. It was a harsher tone than he would normally use with students, but when it came to red names it was best to nip defiance in the bud. “You’re expected to bring these every day. On time. Do you understand?” 

“Fine,” Jason replied curtly. 

Striding over to Jason’s desk, Dick looked down at the alpha before him. Up close, he saw that Jason’s fierce eyes were flecked with gold. There was an aging cut across his left temple, and a fresh one through his lips. 

“Your materials,” Dick said, holding them out to him. Their hands brushed briefly as the exchange occurred. Warm. Callused. 

Jason paused at the touch, sniffing the air between them. For a moment his eyes widened, and then a dark look crossed them and his face twisted. “You’re an omega,” he said, lip curling in disgust. “I’m taking classes from a fucking omega.” 

And so it began. 

Dick thought about the security button beneath his desk, then thought about driving his fist into Jason’s nose. “Will that be a problem?” he asked, and at once the alpha’s scent flared with his temper. 

“Stay the hell away from me, and there won’t be a problem.” 

“Language.”

“Fuck. You.” 

The rest of the class was still, caught in rapt anticipation. Jason’s teeth were bared now, canines sharp and glinting in the light. Dick’s omega would have him cower, bowing submissively at the display of dominance. And yet he stood cool and collected, face impassive in the raging scent of the alpha’s vitriol. _Try me,_ he thought. _I’m not afraid of you._

When it became clear there would be no fight, Dick turned around, retrieved his teacher’s copy of the _Alpha Student Handbook,_ and led the remainder of the class to the best of his abilities. 

After class let out, Dick stopped Jason at the door. 

“Mr. Todd,” he began, stepping into his path. “A word.” 

Jason’s jaw twitched. “What do you want?”

“You came late,” Dick said, refusing to waver under his gaze. “I mean, obviously _your_ time is more important than _mine,_ but you still need to know what you missed.” 

“I don’t need to know anything.”

Dick’s lips twitched into a smile. “That’s funny,” he replied. “I could have sworn I saw your name on my roster. My mistake. If you have nothing to learn, then I guess that I have no court documents to sign.” 

The alpha bristled. “The court is bullshit,” he hissed, though the edge in his voice tapered off near the end. Pained. “Not that I’d expect someone like _you_ to care.” 

“If you have a problem with me, I’d like to know about it.” 

“I don’t need help from a government-assigned _omega._ ” Jason spat the word as if it were rancid on his tongue. “Just throw me away and get it over with.” 

“I’m trying to help you, Jason,” Dick replied, offering a sugary smile _._ “Trust me. It will be easier if you and I get along.”

Jason glared down at him, jaw tight. “I don’t deserve to be here,” he said sharply.

Dick cocked an eyebrow. “Really.” 

“But of course you wouldn’t understand, would you.” 

“Because I’m an omega.”

“And now you’re playing the victim card. Great. Just great.” He fixed Dick with a heated stare. “Gonna call the cops on me, _Dick?_ Tell them I got real mad and scary?”

“Need I remind you of lesson number two? Conflict resolution?”

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” Jason asked. 

“Ah. Lesson number three. If you have nothing good to say—”

“Get out of my way.” The alpha took a step forward, so close Dick could feel the heat of his body, could smell the sharpness of anger falling from his pores. There was but six inches between them, maybe less. “Get out of my way,” Jason said again. “Or I will make you get out of my way.” 

Dick sighed deeply, crossing his arms over his chest as he kept their eyes locked together. Blue on green, green on blue. Jason’s clothes smelled of sweat and dirt and engine grease. The cut on his lip had split open, allowing scarlet beads of blood to push to the surface. It seemed he had not slept in quite some time. 

There was a part of Dick that wanted to give up on him, let him fail the class and face a judge without any proof of reformation. Perhaps the world would be better off if the red names went back to jail. Perhaps the world would be better off if they were not given a second chance to begin with.

But then again, Dick knew he couldn’t believe that, not in his position. He would not fail a student without first giving them his all. He refused to. 

It was time for a new strategy. 

“Alright, fine,” he said softly, falling into the submissive posture expected of him as he stepped aside. “I guess they were right after all.”

Jason paused, one foot in the hallway. “Who was right?” 

“My superiors. You know. Administrative alphas. Bureaucratic betas.” He hesitated, pretending to think for a moment. “Cops.” 

A moment passed. Then, without looking, Jason took a deep breath and asked, “And what were they right about?” 

Dick scratched the back of his neck, taking care not to disturb the scent patch just behind his collarbone. “It’s not really my place to say,” he said. 

Jason swore beneath his breath. “They think I’m trash, don’t they.” 

“They didn’t say that,” Dick replied quickly. “It’s just that people like you don’t usually make it through the program. And I thought, maybe you’d want to prove them wrong. That’s all. Especially since the alternative is, what? Prison? Eviction? Nothing a _big, strong alpha_ can’t handle, I’m sure.”

A moment passed in silence. The alpha’s scent, while still imbued with the tell-tale bite of furor, began to settle into irritation, and then nothing at all. Paper and honey, pine and mountain air. 

“Fine,” Jason said at last. “I’ll play your little good boy games. But don’t expect me to bring you a fucking apple, _Mr. Grayson._ ” 

Dick nodded with a smirk on his face, then watched as Jason flipped up his hood and stomped down the hallway. As soon as the alpha was gone, his face fell blank, and despite his best efforts he found himself hating the man. Hating his obstinance. Hating his aggression. Hating whatever it was that he had done to another omega. 

Red names always were the worst. 

✶✶✶

Technically, it was the other alpha that started it. 

Jason had only been sitting there, two beers deep with his eyes fixed on the glossy bar top. Wood veneer, black, chipped at the edges. Maybe he was thinking about his job at the garage; more likely he was thinking about getting Chinese take-out and falling asleep on his couch. It didn’t matter. 

He was knee-deep in thought when he caught the sharp, unmistakable scent of distress. 

An omega woman. Despite the shitty dive bar lighting Jason could see her struggling to pull away from a laughing alpha, could make out her gray eyes widening in fright and humiliation. The alpha reeked of liquor and lust and arrogance and wealth—the worst kind of combination, Jason knew. 

Heat rose in his chest as she whimpered beneath the alpha’s shadow. _Come on,_ he thought, surveying the crowded bar. Surely someone would notice. Surely someone would do something. Couldn’t they smell the panic radiating from her pores? Couldn’t they hear her pleas and promises? 

But a crowd never failed to disappoint. No one else spared her a glance. And if they did, they shrugged, looked away, and made some quip about how she should have known better to come here at this hour. 

Jason sipped at his beer, fury brewing beneath his skin. He knew better than to intervene, knew what happened to East End alphas when they tried to put up a fight. Bruised, broken, or booked. Take your pick. 

Second-rate alphas, the social worker said, when she brought Jason to the foster home. Little better than dogs. Best to keep him on a short leash. 

A sharp gasp directed his eye back to the omega woman. Her back was flat against the wall, and she looked so small compared to the man in front of her—a mouse before the wolf. Small, pale, trembling. Jason thought of his own mother then, and of the alpha bastards who lay their hands on her. No wonder things ended the way they did. 

If he were smart, he would have minded his own business. Let things play out as they always had and always would. But then the alpha man put his hands where they shouldn’t have gone, and the stench of terror radiated from her skin, and the next thing Jason knew he wasn’t sitting anymore and the omega woman was behind him. 

Up close he saw that the man’s pupils were blown into black holes. The air between them reeked of pheromones, thick and briny like bay water, and the omega’s frightened breaths were hot against his neck, and Jason bristled instinctively. His goddamn alpha. 

Don’t, he told himself, but still a growl rumbled low in his chest and he bared his teeth. Too late. The instincts were rearing inside of him, and suddenly he wanted to fight this man, wanted to feel the man’s skin split beneath his knuckles.

With the last of his sanity, Jason told the man to fuck off. 

The man told him to step aside.

Of course the fucking cops arrived when they did. The other alpha was pinned beneath his knees, face bloodied and twisted with pain, while Jason swung again into his nose. Once for being a bastard, once for being a rich one. His vision swam with blood and sweat and fear and rage, and he was so overcome that he didn’t even know the cops had been called until it was too late. 

“Tell them what happened,” Jason said to the omega woman, as the cops cuffed his hands behind his back. But as he spoke her scent blossomed with fear and she whimpered into the arms of the beta bartender. And he couldn’t blame her, not when he could smell it too, that white-hot aggression leaking from his pores. But he could blame her for keeping her mouth shut, for taking the other alpha’s money, and for speaking against him in the court of law.

It was a quick trial.

In a suit worth more than Jason’s paycheck, the alpha man stood before the judge and claimed that he had done nothing wrong. He had merely been minding his own business when Jason threw the first punch. And the jury nodded and sighed, because the man was from good stock so of course he was telling the truth. By the time Jason took the stand, ruffled and unshaven and bruised from five nights in a jail cell, the ones that had not been paid off had already made up their minds. 

It wasn’t his first misdemeanor, but it was the first he had been tried for. He got off easy, the judge said, as she handed Jason his sentence.

A two-thousand dollar fine. One hundred hours of community service. And mandatory enrollment in the Alpha Enrichment Center. 

✶✶✶

All teachers have their favorites. The bad teachers make their picks obvious; the good keep their thoughts to themselves, and never quite lose hope that the unfavorites will nonetheless take their lessons to heart. In fact, the good ones don’t seem to have favorites at all. But at the end of the day, some students are simply better than others, and teachers are merely human. 

Dick was a good teacher. He had not gotten dual degrees in Education and Social Biology, with a Master of Social Work, to be merely mediocre. He had not fought his way through a system that doubted his abilities, had not studied and worked and argued to _not_ give every student his all. He had not suffered years of unsubtle harassments to _not_ prove every one of the bastards incorrect.

But god damn, was Jason testing him. 

It would be easier if the alpha didn’t know anything, if Dick could have the smallest pleasure of writing an _F_ on the daily worksheets. Three little scratches that would ensure Jason would neither pass the class nor hurt an omega ever again. But no. Jason just _had_ to know all the answers. He just _had_ to bring his materials to class. He just _had_ to sit in the front row of the classroom, wearing that stupid red hoodie and an equally stupid scowl, all the while smelling way better than he had any right to. 

And so, by the end of the second week, Dick had all but given up on fairness. He did not consider this decision to be his fault. In fact, it was a mark of a good teacher to know which students from which to demand perfection. 

The exchanges went as follows:

Post-introduction and pre-lecture, Dick would linger at the front of the class, pretending to ignore Jason as the alpha ignored him. He would begin by asking a basic question on the unit, one that any number of students should know the answer to. A moment would pass, and then several hands would go up. Dick, a good teacher, knew from experience to wait a moment, scan the room, look past the students with their hands raised. One second, two seconds, three seconds. Then, he would call on one student, and upon hearing a correct answer, offer them either a hard candy or a sticker. 

(As was often the case with instructors of his kind, years of teaching had converted him to the Church of Positive Reinforcement. A few chocolates here, a few gold stars there, and even the most disgusted alphas reverted to their pre-presentation docility.)

Only when he was sure that Jason was not paying attention would Dick call on him. He would begin by saying Jason’s name, then follow up with something along the lines of, “Seeing as you already know everything, I assume you can tell me one of the three main territorial de-escalation techniques?” 

And without missing a beat Jason would smirk and say, “Take deep breaths away from the bastard.” 

Then Dick would say, “Yes, but no. The correct term is ‘stressor.’ Maybe if you were paying attention, you would pick up on the vocabulary from the handbook.” 

And then Jason’s scent would flare with anger, and his lip would curl into a sneer, and Dick would merely smile. 

“You see, class?” he’d ask. “Mr. Todd here is exhibiting a textbook example of an irritated scent. Thank you, Jason, for showing us exactly what _not_ to do when challenged. Now who can give me another technique?” 

For some time, the satisfaction of the exchange would linger in Dick’s mind. But then, at the end of the day, he would hand a daily worksheet back to Jason with all the answers marked correct, and the pleasure dissipated. 

“How’d I do, _teach_?” the alpha would ask, wearing a knowing smirk. 

“Fine,” Dick would reply.

“You flatter me.”

“Have a good afternoon, Mr. Todd.” 

“Looking forward to it, Mr. Grayson.”

Infuriating. 

Unpleasant.

Contrary.

And despite all these things, a mystery. 

It was the small things that did it. The little moments when Jason did not know that Dick was looking. And Dick did not intend to look, either. It was purely by happenstance that he saw what he did:

Jason helping a bent old man step onto the bus. Jason letting Carter borrow his phone when the young alpha could not find his mother. Jason stepping out from under the bus shelter and into the snow, so that a pregnant woman could take his place. 

The alpha did these things wordlessly and by rote, clearly expecting nothing in return. And Dick watched without comment and wondered how such a man could be so aggravating at the same time, how such a man could have earned a red name.

He never could figure it out. 

Come the beginning of the third week, towards the end of the behavioral unit _(Civility and You: Mastering Your Alpha Instincts)_ , Dick found himself staring up at Jason. The alpha stood over his desk, glaring down at him with ice in his eyes. Class had long been dismissed; Dick had merely been organizing papers when he smelled the tell-tale hint of paper and honey, pine and mountain air.

“Can I help you?” he asked. 

Jason pulled his lips tight, shuffled from foot-to-foot. In the time since class had let out his hair had become flattened with moisture, and the shoulders of his hoodie had darkened with the same. Dick looked outside. Snow fell in churning bursts from dark clouds, settling onto every surface outside. The pretty omega weatherman had not predicted this. 

“Can. I. Help. You?” Dick asked sharply, then winced. There was a part of him—and no small part, either—that felt guilty for pushing it, for letting his feelings about Jason’s past actions influence how he treated the alpha. 

“Look,” Jason said curtly. “I need your phone.”

“Excuse me?”

“I need your phone. You have a phone, right?” 

Dick scoffed. “Of course I have a phone.”

Jason let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. A moment passed. Then, he gave Dick a disgustingly fake smile, his lips curling back to show off sharp canines. 

_“May_ I use your phone, _please?”_ he asked. “Mine is dead, and I don’t have my bus pass, and I am otherwise stranded in the snow.”

 _Ouch,_ Dick thought, with only a small amount of schadenfreude. He pulled out his phone and extended it slowly, refusing to be the one to break eye contact. Sea green eyes stared back at him, equally unblinking. 

Paper and honey, pine and mountain air.

At last, Jason huffed and snatched the phone from Dick. Dialing a number, he turned away and spoke in a hushed voice, telling the person on the other end that _my bike died again_ and _I’m gonna need you to pick me up from the center. Yeah,_ that _center._

Dick watched him, studying the soft swell of his shoulders, the way his torso narrowed at the waist, the pleasing circumference of his thighs. So frustratingly handsome, indeed. And his scent… Paper and honey, pine and mountain air. It wasn’t cool as one would expect; rather, the scent brought with it a strange influx of heat and comfort. 

“Thank you,” Jason said curtly, and the heat dissipated. 

Dick blinked. “You’re welcome,” he replied, as if on autopilot. Something heavy lay in his hand—the phone. Jason must have handed it back without him realizing. “Sorry about your bike.” 

The alpha laughed without humor. “Sure you are,” he replied, tightening his grip on his bag. “I bet you’re _real_ sorry a second-rate alpha like me has to wait outside in the snow. Am I right, _Mr. Grayson?”_

Now it was Dick’s turn to sigh. “You can wait here, if you’d like,” he said amicably, pretending to busy himself with paperwork. “I don’t mind.” 

Silence fell, after that.

In the quiet Dick tried to focus on grading homework on the pheromonal system, leftovers from the second lesson of the unit: _Scent is Not Consent._ His eyes skimmed the words until they became meaningless, amalgamations of letters written by clumsy hands. 

_Olfactory epithelium. Glands odorum._ So many chemical stimuli and biological responses. So many smells. Like paper and honey, pine and mountain air. 

Casually, Dick looked up from the worksheets. He told himself that he was interested in the motivational cat poster on the opposite wall—Hang in there!—and was not, in fact, watching Jason. There was nothing to watch, anyway. The alpha sat quietly at a desk, reading a hardcover edition of _Little Women._ As he read, the tip of his tongue poked out of his mouth, a soft crescent of pink. His brow furrowed and softened. Then, delicately, he took the edge of the page between his thumb and forefinger and turned it over. 

Such a gentle movement for such scarred hands. Dick found himself captivated by the blushing knuckles, the texture of his fingertips. How good they would feel pressed against naked skin. How strong. How _tantalizing_.

When Jason glanced up, Dick quickly turned his gaze back to the cat poster. His goddamn omega. It never did know what was good for him. 

“Surprised I can read?” the alpha asked.

“I didn’t take you for a classics man,” Dick replied, cheeks reddening. 

“And I didn’t take you for a prick, but here we are.” 

Perhaps he deserved that. He definitely deserved that. 

“What happened to your bike?” he asked. 

“It died.” 

“Gas?”

“Engine,” Jason said bitterly. “Stupid thing can’t go two miles without kicking the bucket.”

“I’m sorry,” Dick replied. 

The alpha shrugged and slipped a bookmark between the pages of _Little Women._ “Life fucks you over, and then you die. The rest is just rain. The lucky ones skate on by without being noticed.” 

“How very optimistic.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

Something clenched inside Dick’s belly. He thought about his work, the long, thankless hours that didn’t want him. He thought about his father, who saw him as an asset to protect, not something to be proud of. He thought of his brothers and sister, who offered support but would never truly understand his reality. Lastly, he thought about his friends, and how circumstances had placed a growing rift between his life and theirs. 

“I’d like to think things can get better,” Dick replied at last, offering a small smile. “Don’t you?” 

Jason huffed into his sweatshirt. “Of course you’d think that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your dad’s Bruce Wayne.” His eyes flashed green. “Yeah, I looked it up. Sue me. Except maybe don’t, since I don’t have any assets to hand over.”

“Ah,” Dick replied. “So you took me for a rich bastard. Fun.” 

“You’re telling me you’re not?” 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t rely on Bruce’s money.” 

The alpha paused for a moment before saying, “Just a regular bastard, then.” 

Dick cocked an eyebrow, smirking. “Lesson number three, Mr. Todd.” 

“Fuck you,” Jason replied, though his tone and expression betrayed more humor than venom. Something almost mischievous passed behind his eyes, swimming like a fish in a bowl. And just beyond lay something else—an intelligence, perhaps, the kind that can only come from an imperfect life. 

It was then that Dick realized: he had never met a red name like Jason. There was too much apathy, too little fury. Even his most aggressive scents were tinged with regret and bitterness. Almost self-loathing. 

Something twisted inside of Dick, though as to what it was, he could not say. 

“Hmm,” he said at last, giving the alpha an amused look. “I’ll let that one pass. This time.” 

“How gracious of you.”

“It’s been known to happen.” 

“Has it?” Jason asked.

Guilt blossomed in Dick’s throat, and he said nothing. After a moment, he offered the alpha a quiet smile, a token of something he could not explain. An apology, perhaps. And Jason returned his half-smile, and he was so handsome sitting there, and Dick could not help but feel _want_ rising somewhere deep inside his core. 

They stayed like this, for much longer than a moment. Then warmth rolled through him like a wave, and once more Dick found himself staring at the cat poster. 

_Hang in there!_

When he looked back, Jason was standing. 

“I should go,” the alpha said quickly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t want to miss my ride.”

“Of course,” Dick said. 

“Thanks for letting me use your phone.”

“Any time, Mr. Todd.” 

A silence fell then, awkward and unwieldy. Jason shifted his weight from side-to-side, gripping the straps of his bag until his knuckles were white and bloodless. It seemed as though something strange had descended upon him and caused his feet to take root. Finally, he muttered, “See you tomorrow, I guess,” and strode toward the door.

Without thinking, Dick called for him to wait. “Just a second,” he explained, upon seeing Jason’s apprehensive expression. Holding his tongue, Dick found the alpha’s worksheet amongst the pile on his desk and stuck a blue shark in the upper right corner. Then, with the flourish of his pen, he wrote, _Good job!_

“A shark,” Jason said, after Dick handed him the paper. “Really?”

“I have stars if you’d like. Or fruit.”

The alpha looked at him then, a long, heavy look that had Dick holding his breath to keep the scents from rolling over him, to keep his knees from going weak. A moment passed. Then Jason took a deep breath and walked out of the classroom without another word. 

✶✶✶

Jason had never been good at chemistry.

Of course, he was far from poor—at least, in the academic sense—though his preferred subjects had always been with the humanities. Literature. History. Classics. It had been nearly five years since he had last looked at chemical formulas or organic compounds. And yet, he still remembered the signs of change.

One. Formation of a Precipitate.

Two. The production of light.

Three. A change in color. 

Four. A change in temperature.

Five. A change in smell or taste. 

It was the last three that got to him. Following that snowy afternoon, there seemed to be a change in color, temperature, and smell. The classroom was no longer cloaked in a dull beige and ugly gray—rather, he saw only the ocean blue of irises, the deep, golden tan of skin. And his face and chest grew warm when he heard the omega’s voice, and each time he inhaled he caught the balmy scents of sandalwood and vanilla, citrus and sugar. 

Yes, something had changed indeed. And Jason _hated_ it.

He hated that Dick’s voice had lost its irritated edge. He hated that Dick smiled at him, told him he did well, wrote notes on his papers. He hated that he felt himself wanting to please the omega, and that no matter how hard he tried he found himself aggressive and unpleasant. And most of all, he hated the stupid, shiny stickers Dick left in the corner of his papers. A strawberry, shark, or robot. Sometimes a combination, sometimes all three. 

He hated it when he got all three. 

There was only one day left of class when Jason found himself finished with the in-class reading, _Unexpected Ruts and You: Natural Remedies and Preventative Actions._ Dick had given them a worksheet to complete in conjunction with the article; Jason filled it out quickly, though he still stopped to check his answers. 

_To prevent sudden ruts, the article recommends that you a) eat a well-balanced diet, b) get lots of vigorous exercise, c) moderate your alcohol consumption, or d) all of the above._

_Why am I checking these?_ he thought, letting his pencil fall to the desk. It was stupid. _This_ was stupid. No one would ever expect an alpha like him to do well, anyway. 

He stood up quickly and walked to the front of the room, where he set the worksheet on Dick’s desk. The omega looked up at him, blue eyes captivating even under garish fluorescents. Life was so unfair, to let one omega be so beautiful. His hair was still a rich black, perfectly messy as it was when Jason first met him—how he could have mistaken Dick for a beta, he has no idea. The man could be the poster child for good genetics: perfect hair, perfect lips, perfect cheekbones. And as always, that perfect scent. Sandalwood and vanilla, citrus and sugar. 

Jason’s knees went weak. He hated that too. 

“Done already?” Dick asked, taking the worksheet in hand.

“What does it look like?” 

“That easy, huh?” 

Jason grunted in reply, looking anywhere but into the omega’s face. His eyes fell upon the stupid cat poster on the other wall. _Hang in there!_ What a joke. 

“Well done, Mr. Todd,” Dick said suddenly, breaking Jason from his thoughts. 

“What?” 

“Your worksheet.” The omega handed it back to him, along with a half-smile and two shark stickers. “Everything looks to be correct.” 

Jason rolled his eyes. “Seems like you hardly looked, _Mr. Grayson_.” 

“Mmm. Keep thinking that.” 

“Oh, I will.”

The omega pulled his lips tight. Plush lips. Jason imagined they would be soft to the touch, like the flesh of a peach. No, an orange, to go with his scent. Sandalwood and vanilla, citrus and sugar. 

Jason’s stomach lurched and a blush spread over his cheeks. The points of his canines dug into the inside of his cheeks. His goddamn alpha. Too stupid to know its place. Their place. 

“Would you like me to look it over again?” Dick asked in a cloying voice. 

Jason’s fingers tightened around the paper. He found himself saying, “It’s okay,” and then he was back at his desk, shoving the worksheet into his bag. For a moment he considered crumpling it up, just to prove a point. But he did not. 

The sharks _were_ kind of cute. 

It had been a week since he had finished _Little Women,_ and two days since he had completed a second read-through of _The Outsiders,_ so Jason really had nothing left but a thriller he pulled from the back of his bookshelf. He fingered the pages idly, half-reading and half-pretending to read. The words did little for him; just lines on a page. 

Sighing, he glanced at the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes and hours until he would be free. And then his eyes fell, lower, lower, until he was looking at dark, wavy locks and a jawline that could bleed him dry. Dick appeared so focused as he worked, brow furrowed and shoulders hunched forward over the desk. He was well-built for an omega, trim and compact, with forearms that had Jason feeling faint.

No, not _Jason._ His alpha. There was, of course, a difference. 

When class finished, he gathered his things and walked out the door, pretending not to hear Dick wishing him a pleasant afternoon. The scent of him nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. Sandalwood and vanilla, citrus and sugar. Mouth-watering and strong enough to chase him home.

_Five. A change in smell or taste._

In his apartment, Jason shed his clothes and jumped into the shower, desperate to wash the scent down the drain. The water was cold, half a degree from ice. His skin burned red. Desire blossomed in his lower belly. For the briefest moment he saw Dick’s eyes, Dick’s body, and wondered how it would be to feel the omega, to touch and be touched until they are both undone—

No. _No._ Absolutely not. 

_Bruised, broken, or booked,_ he reminded himself, shutting off the water. Freezing air curled around his limbs, his torso. No more stupid shit. No more alphas or omegas. Jason was done. 

He stood in the frigid silence until he felt nothing, thought nothing. Then, he dried off, put on a fresh pair of sweats, searched Alpha’s List for open mechanic positions, and, upon finding none, considered moving to Fucking Nowhere, Arkansas. But instead he crawled into bed and held on to his pillow, breathing deep and pretending that he didn’t want someone to hold him back. 

Friday came slowly. Once it arrived, it would not stop. 

Jason blinked and his final class was nearly over. In his hands were the final papers and worksheets he had yet to get back, plus a set of twelve dinosaur stickers. _Why?_ he thought, unable to recall when and how the latter had come into his possession. But in his possession they were, and he could not return them. Would not. 

Dick was up at the blackboard, scribbling some chalk notes while going on about how proud he was of them, that they all did such a great job, he hoped to see them again, blah blah blah. He wore slacks and a floral button-up shirt, parted up top just enough to show off his collar bone and the hint of a scent-blocker. 

_Needs his money back,_ Jason thought, tasting sandalwood and vanilla, citrus and sugar. 

“Right,” Dick sighed, setting down the chalk. On the blackboard he had left instructions about returning court documents and navigating the Enrichment Center’s website _(Make sure you attach the documents in PDF form,_ they said). “You guys were a great class. Really. I’m so happy I got to teach you all.” 

Jason didn’t want to believe him. But the way he said it, the smile on his face—it felt genuine. It felt _warm._

_Four. A change in temperature._

“If you guys have any other questions or comments, I’d love to hear them. Otherwise, this is it!” Dick’s smile grew wider, and the scent of him washed over Jason like ocean waves. “I hope I never see you in class again.”

A few snickers, a few bursts of good-hearted laughter as the others gathered their things. Sharp alpha scents rolled over Jason—relief, optimism, gratitude, enchantment, desire. _Desire._ It was little more than a hint, a teaspoon of emotion, and yet it struck him like a bullet. A possessive irritation flared suddenly across his skin, like an ugly rash. _Mine,_ his alpha growled, rumbling through his chest. 

Jason clenched his jaw and tried to force it down. The scent disappeared quickly, anyway. No doubt it was a momentary lapse, a passing thought. So why was he so on edge? 

Breathing deep, he felt his lungs expand with sandalwood and vanilla, citrus and sugar. A bolt of electricity flitted down his spine, blossomed across his chest. And Dick was looking at him, his full, wet lips parted slightly, and Jason’s face caught fire, and his breaths came quick and hot, and his hands trembled as he started to shove everything in his bag. He knew better than this. He would never—especially not over a omega far too good for him—

“Congratulations, Jason,” Dick said to him, and when did everyone else leave? The omega was too close, his skin too hot. His smile became something softer, almost apologetic. “You know, I think I’m going to miss our little back-and-forths.”

Jason tried to speak but found himself stuck. 

Dick looked at him then, really _looked_ at him. Blue eyes boring into his skull. At once Jason thought of the bar, of the omega woman pressed into the corner, of the taste of blood between his teeth. His heart lurched into his throat. 

He could hear Dick calling after him as he walked quickly down the hall, though the words fell useless against his ears. White noise. All that mattered was the cool surface of the door against his palm, the rush of icy wind that embraced him on the other side. His boots crunched over snow and he hugged his chest tight, watching his breath disappear into the dry air. A couple passed him on the sidewalk; the alpha woman wrapped an arm instinctively around her omega partner, holding him close as she cast a sharp gaze at Jason. Their coats were whole and unpatched. They smelled content and well-off. 

_Not like them,_ Jason thought. He knew it. They knew it. And the world would never let him forget. 

Second-rate alphas, the social worker said. Hardly better than dogs. No way an omega like Dick Grayson would ever look twice at someone like Jason Todd.

✶✶✶

Two weeks passed. 

The snow fell. The snow melted. Without a class to distract him, Dick had little to do but watch spring creep slowly into Gotham. There was not a single event of note. 

He drank his tea without honey and ran an extra mile in the mornings. He went to his youngest brother’s art show, then sat through a work meeting that could have been an email. He thought about paper and honey, pine and mountain air, then decided he was thinking too much. He downloaded the Two Scents dating app, matched with a beta woman, went on a date at a bagel café. 

_So delightfully scentless_ , he thought, watching her sip her coffee. No smells to fluster him. No pheromones to set him off. Just coffee beans and the slightest hint of sugar. 

But when she offered to take him home and _take him,_ Dick found himself declining. “You’re lovely,” he said to her. “It just takes me a while to want something more.” 

They didn’t really talk, after that. Dick went home by himself and held on to his brother’s sweatshirt, feeling, for some unknown reason, as though he had lost something intangible. 

It was a Friday afternoon, during an outing with Roy, that he finally started to feel less like a glassy-eyed pup and more like himself. The alpha always had been good at making Dick feel like a carefree teen again, if only for a little while. 

They walked down the busy Gotham streets, listening to the sounds of the city. Cars, buses, the distant rattle of construction. Tumultuous smells blew through Dick—exhaustion, frustration, boredom, desire, surprise—though none were particularly pleasant. 

_Paper and honey, pine and mountain air,_ Dick thought, then hated that he thought it. 

“So, no class this month,” Roy said. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and exhaled, watching his breath cloud. In the cold, his cheeks flushed nearly as red as his hair. “Enjoying your break?” 

“Could be worse,” Dick replied. 

“Ouch. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. All I said was, ‘could be worse.’”

“You don’t sound convincing,” Roy said. 

Dick rolled his eyes. “Well maybe you need to get your ears checked,” he replied. “I’m having a blast.” 

Roy made a show of sniffing the air, then gave Dick a grin. “You smell like you’re lying.”

“I’m wearing a scent patch, you dork.”

“Really? Because all I smell is—” Another sniff. “—utter bullshit.” 

Dick smacked the back of his head, but laughed nonetheless. Then they walked in silence for a bit, glowing in the pleasantries of the other’s company and the invigorating chill of the afternoon.

“Hey,” Roy said suddenly, stopping in front of the large doors of a corner market. “Mind if I duck in real quick? Lian ran out of her Sugar-Os this morning.”

Dick grinned. “Can’t have that.”

“Hell no,” Roy said, and marched inside.

It was colder in than out. Dick wandered aimlessly through the aisles while Roy called Lian to tell her that _they don’t have any Sugar-Os, sweetie_ and _what other kind of cereal would you like?_ Aisles of ingredients stared him down. A rainbow of accusation.

He had never liked markets, never enjoyed how they reminded him that he was hardly a good homemaker, hated how that brought him a small amount of shame. So what if he could hardly fit the mold of an old-fashioned omega partner. Dick was _proud_ of being atypical, _proud_ that he didn’t have to learn to cook or raise children or bleach the bathtub. He was anything but incomplete. 

Still, he _did_ enjoy looking at the fresh produce. Just for fun. Maybe one day he would learn to cook, and maybe that day would be soon, so maybe he should see if some essentials were on sale. Onions and garlic, things with lovely, rich scents to fill an apartment with. Like paper and honey, pine and mountain air.

Dick froze.

He thought about sea-green eyes, broad shoulders, full lips. He thought about a man who helped strangers onto buses. He thought about the color of red ink and a mystery he would never solve. He thought all these things, then realized they had never quite left his mind. 

Slowly, he drifted toward the edge of the section, pretending to check out the bananas while acting as casual as possible. It wasn’t that he had never before run into students in public. But the thought of seeing Jason felt different in a way that Dick couldn’t place. 

_Stupid,_ Dick thought. It was a stupid reaction. 

Before he could think any further, he turned around and sought the flash of green eyes, a streak of red. Nothing. He walked slowly but intently toward the adjacent aisle, around the potatoes and yams, through rows of fresh tomatoes and bright red apples. No scent was brighter than the one he pretended not to follow. 

It was mere coincidence, Dick told himself. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He peered into the breakfast aisle, saw Roy, kept going. Nothing in the refrigerated section. Nothing in soups or spices or canned fruits and vegetables. At last Dick found himself at the opposite end of the store and, upon seeing only an older couple, turned around and made his way back to the vegetables. 

The omega made it all the way to the melons before he saw red. Or, more accurately, nearly ran into it. He made a sound of surprise and stepped back, only to see an equally shocked pair of green eyes staring down at him. _Jason Todd,_ red name, looked as though he had just been running from something.

Then he blinked, and his expression fell into one of mild displeasure, or perhaps strained neutrality. 

“Mr. Todd,” Dick said amicably, pretending as though the whole affair had been intentional. 

“Mr. Grayson.” 

“Find what you’re looking for?”

The question seemed to throw the alpha off-balance, but only for a moment. “Actually, no,” he replied, turning around to examine the russet potatoes. “But they do have lots of things I’m not looking for.” 

“Oh, absolutely,” Dick said.

“So do you just come here to judge the veggies, or what?”

“Excuse me?”

Jason motioned to Dick’s empty arms and grinned. “Thought you taught us not to loiter, _teach.”_

Dick’s face burned. “I’m not,” he said, grabbing the first thing he saw. Round, heavy, grayish. “I just needed this.”

“A cantaloupe. Right.”

“What’s wrong with cantaloupes?”

“Nothing,” Jason replied. “Wanna tell me how you like your cantaloupes, Mr. Grayson?” 

“Excuse me?”

The alpha swore as he rolled his eyes. “It’s just a question, damn. Don’t get so defensive.” 

“Defensive?” Dick laughed as though he were above it all. “You think I’m being defensive? That’s cute.” 

“Well, I’d say I’m wrong, but…” Jason’s eyes twinkled as he smirked. “...We both know I get things right.” 

“Academically,” Dick corrected.

“And socially?” 

“Can’t say.” Dick cocked his head, looked the alpha in the eyes. Heat flooded his face when he realized how close they were together, with but three feet between their chests. The scent of him was nearly enough to have him unravelled. “You _did_ land yourself a spot in my classroom, after all. And you _do_ smell like you have secrets.”

“Right,” Jason scoffed. “And you smell insecure.”

“And now you’re lying. Didn’t I cover that somewhere? In the cordiality unit, maybe?”

“Do you have a problem with me?”

“No, not at all. Just testing what you remember.” 

“Because you think I’ll go rogue again.” 

“Because I’m a teacher,” Dick corrected, giving him a good-natured smile. “I test. It’s what I do.” 

The alpha paused for a moment, full lips parted as if in anticipation. He seemed to be turning something over in his mind, attempting to reach some small, evasive conclusion. Finally he said, in a very small voice, “I’m not what you think I am.”

 _I’ve no idea what you really are,_ Dick thought. _Though I’d like to know._

But such things were not ones he could say. Instead he shook his head and shrugged, refusing to let go of his smile. “You were a good student, Jason,” he said. “Care to argue with that?” 

The alpha gave him a look then, a long, complicated look that seemed to convey many things at once. Confusion. Hope. Frustration. Shame. And most of all: complete and utter bewilderment. 

The longer he maintained eye contact, the more Dick knew that his own face looked much the same. He was struck by the sudden desire to hold on to this man he hardly knew, to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and breathe deep. Without a doubt he knew it would be safe. It would feel like home. 

“Dick!” called a familiar voice, and at once a blush spread over his cheeks. 

Dick looked toward Roy, who stood by the doors with an expectant expression, then nodded. He waited until his friend was outside before turning once more to Jason. “My cue to go,” he said. 

The alpha shuffled awkwardly, cleared his throat. “Seems that way.”

“I’ll see you around?”

“It’s a large city,” Jason replied, and walked away without another word. 

For too long, Dick waited for him to come back. Then, with an anchor slowly sinking in his stomach, he paid for the cantaloupe, looked once more for a flash of red, and left. 

Roy cocked an eyebrow as he emerged from the store. “What’s with the fruit?” 

“Don’t ask.”

“It have something to do with that alpha you were talking to?”

Dick blushed angrily into the cantaloupe and said nothing. 

“Right,” Roy replied. “Ready to go?”

“Yep.” 

They walk for a while. As icy wind stung Dick’s cheeks, he held tight to the fruit, pretending that it was warm and soft and could hold him back. He told himself he was not wishing it smelled like paper and honey, pine and mountain air. 

Out of the blue, Roy said, “You know, I wondered what happened to him.” 

“Who?” 

“That alpha you were talking to.” 

Rolling his eyes, Dick said, “What do you mean, ‘what happened to him’?”

Roy laughed as he started down the street. “Crazy story, really. You know that bar on Third and Marina?” 

“Yeah?”

“So a while back I was there with my sponsor, just chilling, when all of a sudden this alpha jerkass starts getting up in this omega’s face,” Roy says. 

“Him?” asked Dick, looking around as if seeking Jason’s face in the crowd. It made sense, he knew, given the color of his name. But hearing it out loud, knowing what he had done, drew a sort of sickness deep into his belly. 

And then Roy said “no,” and the sickness dissipated. 

“Wait. What?” 

Roy shoved his hands in his pockets and picked up his pace, causing Dick to chase after him. “It was just this rando,” he said. “I was about to step in when Red over there went all feral on him. Totally fucked him up. It was honestly impressive.” 

Oh. 

Oh _no._

Dick’s breath hitched in his throat as his body shut down. _I don’t deserve to be here,_ the alpha had said. _I’m not what you think I am._ But all of Dick’s students said that, _all_ of them. Especially the red names. How could he have known—

“Anyway, the cops showed up, cuffed him, blah blah blah.” Roy shrugged. “They weren’t taking any statements, otherwise I would have—hey! Where are you going?”

 _I’m an asshole,_ Dick thought, as he ran back toward the store. _A bastard. A lowercase dick._

The cashier said something to him as he flew through the doors. An admonition? A warning? It did not matter. All that mattered was finding the man in the red hoodie, telling him that he didn’t deserve any of it, and especially not the judgement of his teacher. 

But there was no such man to be found. Jason was already gone. 

✶✶✶

Technically, Jason hadn’t been following Dick. 

He had only been looking for bell peppers when he _happened_ to smell him. Sandalwood and vanilla, citrus and sugar. Unmistakable. Enticing. He only followed it because it was near the produce section, and only turned around and followed it again because it was heading towards the condiments, and he had grabbed blueberry jam instead of blackberry. And maybe he looked around a corner to see Dick’s face once or twice. Maybe he lost himself in those blue eyes. Maybe he felt a surge of jealousy when the omega waved at the red-haired alpha in the cereals. Maybe, when they spoke at last, Jason wished he knew how to be desirable, and how not to be angry or ashamed or lesser. 

But he did not. The omega slipped away, and Jason had no one to blame but himself.

Life went on.

Jason thought about Dick when he woke up, tired and alone on a worn mattress. He thought about Dick when he went jogging, then again in the shower, then once more as he worked on fixing his bike. He thought about Dick whenever he smelled the heavy scents of distress or aggression or arrogance. And he thought about Dick at night, when his sweats were shoved halfway down his thighs and the omega’s name was a whisper on his lips. 

Sandalwood and vanilla, citrus and sugar. The scent of him lingered always, a candle flickering in the back of Jason’s mind. 

Three days after the incident at the market, he stood naked in front of his bathroom mirror and tried to figure out what it was that made him a second-rate alpha. Certainly he looked like any other, though perhaps his scars were harsher and more abundant. And perhaps he did brash things, stupid things, things that landed him in courtrooms and corrective institutions. And perhaps he was angry, and perhaps he was stubborn, and perhaps no matter how hard he tried things would never be right.

Yes, that was it. The problem was inside, not out. 

Sighing deeply, he threw on his clothes and made a quick omelette with the old vegetables in the back of his fridge. There was a time when he thought he might impress someone with his cooking, when he thought it would make him appear to be an ideal partner and a caring alpha who didn’t care about gender roles or outdated expectations. But such a thing would first require someone who wanted him. 

The omelette was delicious. Jason paired it with a glass of orange juice, the smell of which reminded him of Dick. 

He had just finished washing dishes when he got the call. An unknown but local number. Possibly spam, possibly a job offer. Quickly he took a deep breath, working up his most friendly and agreeable tone before putting his cell to his ear.

“Hello,” he said. “Jason Todd speaking.” 

“Jason!” 

The desperation of it stunned him. For a moment he did nothing but tell himself that he was not hearing _that_ voice, and if he was, then it was no good thing. 

Finally, he spoke. “Dick?” 

“I am so, so sorry.” 

Speechless again. Jason pulled his cell away from his ear, stared into his dark reflection, then put it back. “What?” 

“I heard what happened.” 

_I can’t do this,_ Jason thought. _I can’t do this._

“Look,” Dick said. “I, um, I got your phone number through the program. But I want to talk to you in person. Can I do that?” 

Could he? Could he? No, it was a bad idea. One that would surely lead to another disappointment. Because Jason could never be good, could never not ruin things. 

And yet he found himself nodding, though he knew the omega could not see. “Okay,” he replied, and it felt like a mistake. 

They met outside a café and bookstore, a quaint shop that smelled of coffee and cinnamon and warmth. It was snowing when Jason arrived. Delicate snowflakes fell around them, just enough to cover his hood and shoulders in a light powder. He brushed it off before walking inside the café, enjoying the feel of ice against his hot, trembling fingers. 

Inside, he smelled only sandalwood and vanilla, citrus and sugar. Dick sat at a table against the window. In front of him were two paper cups. 

“Mr. Grayson,” Jason said stiffly, lingering beside the table. 

The omega looked up at him, eyes flashing with something undecipherable. “Dick,” he said.

“Dick.”

“Will you sit down?” 

Jason sat down. 

Dick pushed one of the cups over to him. Steam wafted through the hole in the lid, curling like a question mark into the air. “Chai latte,” he said. “I hope that’s okay. It’s—it’s the least I can do.”

“The least you can do.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Jason.”

“I don’t—” He furrowed his brow, sighed deeply. “What is this?”

Dick pulled his lips tight. “I know what happened,” he said. “What really happened.”

“Good for you.” 

“The way I treated you was…well, it was unprofessional and unacceptable,” Dick continued. His fingers sought out the edge of a brown paper napkin and began to tear at the edge. “Even if you had done what they said you did, I shouldn’t have singled you out like that. I’m sorry.” 

“So you’ve said,” Jason replied, then winced at his brusque tone. Always angry, always lesser. 

Silence followed. Gentle music floated between them, something jazzy but gentle. Wringing his hands together, Jason stared out the window, where snow fell steadily down from a gray sky. He breathed in slowly. The smell of the chai latte mixed with sandalwood and vanilla, citrus and sugar. 

Dick was watching him. Jason was sure of it. He could feel the omega’s eyes on his face, could hear the steady beat of his heart. _Why?_ he thought. There was nothing to see. Just another nobody, looking out a window. 

“What can I do?” Dick asked suddenly.

Jason shook his head. “It’s fine,” he muttered, keeping his voice even. Measured. 

“No, it’s not.” 

“I could have told you. It’s my fault.”

“What you didn’t say doesn’t matter. I was still a bastard.”

“Stop acting like I didn’t give you a reason to be.” 

“You didn’t,” Dick replied, frowning.

“Please,” Jason said, laughing without humor. “I’m a second-rate alpha. Everyone knows I’m no good.” 

Dick paused as a look of confusion fell over his face. His brow furrowed; his full lips parted slightly, as if lost in thought. How Jason longed to lean over the table and capture them in a kiss. He imagined the omega would taste sweet, with hints of cinnamon. Then he imagined what Dick would say, if he knew the desires that ran hot through Jason’s mind, blinding and burning and _consuming_. 

He needed to leave. He needed to leave _now_.

Jason stood, face flushing as his heart pounded in his chest. “Thank you,” he said, “but I have to go.” 

“Jason!” 

The cold air stung his face. He trudged quickly over the snow, hands crossed over his chest to keep his heart from bursting out. All he heard was his pulse. All he smelled was sandalwood and vanilla, citrus and sugar. 

When a hand grabbed his shoulder, he was wound so tight he nearly snarled. At once he whipped around and bared his teeth, only to fall apart when he saw that it was Dick. 

The omega must have left in a rush. He wore no winter coat over his blue dress shirt, and he gasped as if out of breath. Only then did Jason notice that his own breaths came in rapid bursts, and that his every muscle ached and burned.

“Jason, you’re…” Dick took a deep breath, and seemed to steady himself. “You’re not a second-rate alpha.”

Jason didn’t know what to say, and so he laughed. 

“I’m serious.” 

“Okay,” Jason said, rolling through the aftershocks of laughter. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, staring at the footprints in the snow. “Sure. You don’t even know me, but sure.”

“I know enough,” Dick said. “I know that you care about other people. I know that you tried to defend an omega who couldn’t defend herself.”

He spoke plainly, factually. The tone sent Jason’s face aflame once more. _And look where that got me,_ he wanted to say, though the words died on his tongue.

The omega continued. “You’re stubborn, but the good kind of stubborn. Not like me. And you’re smart,” he added, then laughed softly. “God. It really annoyed me, how smart you are. I wanted to fail you so badly.”

“Oh,” Jason said, because that was all he could say. 

A blush spread over Dick’s cheeks. “I just wanted you to know that,” he muttered, averting his eyes. “You’re worth a lot, Jason. Any person would be lucky to have you.” 

There were no words. Jason’s thoughts scrambled in his head, tangled and blinding as snow. By the time he felt stable enough to speak, he saw that the omega was already walking back to the café.

 _Follow,_ begged his heart, just as his head urged him to _leave._ Turn around and head to the bus shelter, then pretend that none of this had happened. The two of them had endured their collision, and were bound to keep moving, travelling in opposite directions until the other was nothing more than a blip in the course of their lives. Alphas like Jason and omegas like Dick simply were not meant to be.

The scent of him began to fade. Sandalwood and vanilla became ice and asphalt; citrus and sugar twisted into metal and brick. Then Jason’s heart leapt into his throat and he knew he could stand still no longer.

“Wait!” he called. He stumbled as he broke into a run, nearly slipping into the snow before he regained his balance. “Dick! Wait!” 

Things happened then. Dick turned and, perhaps surprised, froze in his tracks. At the same time, Jason’s boot found a lone patch of ice on the sidewalk, and his foot slipped out from beneath him, sending his body lurching forward and into the other man’s chest. Together they fell into the snow. 

The collision endured. 

Jason saw white. He blinked, hard, and when his vision cleared he found himself on top of Dick, pressed so close he could feel the man’s heart beat against his own. He tasted citrus on his tongue, smelled the rich currents of surprise and curiosity and longing. _Longing._

Their eyes found each other. 

“Oh god,” Jason said, extricating himself from Dick’s limbs before helping him to his feet. “I didn’t mean—the ice—” 

Dick merely laughed. His scent rang clear and perfect, though with an undertone of something Jason couldn’t quite place. Hope, perhaps. Or anticipation. “It’s fine, Jason,” he replied.

“No, it’s not.” Taking a deep breath, Jason forced himself to look into the omega’s eyes. The deep blue irises stood stark against the white of their surroundings. “Not yet, at least.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that you’re a good person. And more than that, I wanted to thank you for saying those things. Back there, I mean,” he added, blushing deeply. “No one’s…no one’s ever said anything like that before. To me. So, thank you.” 

A moment passed. Then, Dick said, “Oh.” 

“And I guess I just wanted to let you know that any person would be lucky to have you too.” Jason shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling his whole body catch fire even as snow settled on his shoulders, his eyelashes. His heart drummed in his throat as he waited for the stinging reply, the confirmation that yes, he was a fool, and yes, he was indeed what everyone else thought him to be. 

But such a thing never came. 

Finally, Dick stepped closer, and closer. And he smiled. It was a gentle smile, a smile filled with hope and affection and just a hint of something sly. The most perfect smile Jason had ever seen. 

“And how is your luck, Mr. Todd?” Dick asked. 

Relief swept over Jason. He returned the omega’s smile even though he knew he could never match its beauty. “Generally,” he said, “not so good.”

Closer still. Dick’s bare skin flushed red in the cold. “That’s okay,” the omega replied softly, still smiling.

“Oh?” 

“Yes,” Dick said. “Because mine is.” 

And, gently, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Jason’s cheek. 

Sandalwood and vanilla, citrus and sugar. He smelled like home. 

“My my, Mr. Grayson,” Jason said, after. “It seems you have forgotten the lesson on PDA.”

“Teacher’s privileges, Mr. Todd.”

“Oh yes. My mistake.” 

The omega sighed as he looked up to the sky, opening himself up to the snow. “It seems I left my coat in the café,” he said. 

“Is this the part where you let me offer mine?” Jason asked. 

“I believe this is the part where I let you walk me back,” Dick replied. 

“Of course.” Jason took his arm and pulled him close, warm enough for the both of them. “Nothing would make me happier.”

Snow fell softly as they made their way back. Later they would have much to discuss, but for now they were content to walk in comfortable silence, watching the world grow white. 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me why Dick's scent patch wasn't working. Something something the power of love.


End file.
